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Comfortable Madness First PDF 4-13-18

Angie nodded.

Angie nodded. “Sure,” she said. She stood. Tayla stared at me. She knew things but what could she say? She took Angie to the door. “See you soon,” Angie said. “Yeah,” I said, the word blunt and hard as a hammer. Tayla flinched a little. When Angie was gone, Tayla didn’t look at me. She took all the air out of the room and closed the door, leaving me choking on my secrets.

Fight For days, we fought but we fought silently. We circled each other and pretended we had nothing to say. It was a long, wordless battle of sighs and swallowed snark. Meals were concentrated awkwardness. I sighed and Tayla glared and grumbled. Faces in the walls stared with eyes like boiled eggs. Moody, filmy flags floated and waved, unanchored and tattered. I lie on the couch watching dust dance in the jaundiced light between me and the ceiling. Across the room, Tayla picked out a simple tune on her piano, one note at a time. Sound dripped onto the floor and rolled there, small and iridescent as mercury. Suddenly, it stopped. Everything in the room went still. Me. Tayla. The notes in the air. “You know,” Tayla said, “all you ever wanted was to dance.” Something cold raced along my leg, aching deep in the bone. It wasn’t a memory I wanted. I closed my eyes. “I loved that in you,” she said. Words raced through me, jagged and hard. I wanted to explain. I wanted to shout and scream. Dancing was hard. Grace was hard. Rhythm and feeling were hard. It lost the touch. I lost the drive. “It made you special,” she said. I didn´t want to be special. I was used to living slowly now. My life was simple. I was big. Man big, but no one laughed at me for dreaming stupid dreams. Dancing was for limber, little girls. I was neither. “Remember the things your mom used to say?” she asked. This wasn’t fair. Bringing my mom into things was mean. I couldn’t even remember the last time I´d spoken to my mother. All my life, she had ridden me for being big.